She hit the villain with it. ‘Wait! At least tell me where I can find you. Babies and females have got to keep hold of somebody or go under—anyhow, for the next few generations. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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